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A Vulture and a Hawk
The repeated thud of impacts rung across the court yard almost to a rhythmic timing, boot soles clapping on the sheet metal flooring followed by grunts and the sound of thuds from practice weapons glancing off of one another. Occasionally the sounds would be inter-mixed with shouts from an instructor to one of the young clan warriors training against one another, or at other times still the clatter of flesh against metal as one would be sent sprawling with a bloodied nose or jaw. Barks of laughter and amusement would sound around the training floor, before the snarls of the instructors brought the patterned rhythm to a new cycle, and then It would all start one more. The ever present sound of practised battle, backed by the life of every day motions carried out by clans men and women across the width and breadth of the CellBorn holds, cries of laughter and pain, the march of boots and the din of practice and brawls across all clans, the violent heart beat of a healthy people. Everywhere your eyes could venture in the holds of the clans both great and small, banners of every colour, symbols of pride and strength coating every surface and proclaiming the very grounds allegiance to the clan that treads its walk ways and under-hangs. The same could be said of the clans themselves, of every size and strength from the towering giants of the council to the gutter rats of the shallow ways, symbols marked into flesh with the ink carvers blade, armour coated in tales and weapons of all sorts open to those that would judge a clans strength and think it lacking. He shook his head slightly, smirking in the half light of his perch as he eyed his fellow in the shadows of the training yard, adjudicators snarling the ways of war and blade into the young clans men and women before them. Slim but well built, neither ugly nor beautiful, a creature of the shadow that snatches at the fire light, one whose strength lays in her ability to move unseen from one place to the next, her eyes calculating and evaluating at a glance for an advantage to be taken fully opportunity of. Such a creature would be hard to find in a people like the Clans of the CellBorn he though to himself, The Vultures shadow marked her though for her place in life, a runner of the Black market, the shadow shifters as his people knew them. A great network of fractious clans in their own right who had proven time and again their friendship and loyalty to their friends amongst the CellBorn, and now here once more when called for as the vulture carries carrion to mark the way for the hawk to feast upon. He clicked his neck as he lent back against the wall, letting the two handed axe he had been polishing lay restful in his lap for a moment, smirking to himself as the Black-marketer looked down at him from where she stood. The Shadow shifter glanced down at the Adjudicator, the Lone soldier according to her contacts with the clans of the CellBorn, an oddity amongst his kind so she was told, a former thane who had cast it aside in disgust with the actions of others and chosen to pursue his own path beyond the bulwark. The tattooed smirking warrior sat next to her currently she thought reminded her more of a trickster than one of the CellBorn’s elite warrior caste she thought as looked him up and down momentarily, though thinking again she had seen too during her first run as a joiner what could happen when that mask slipped away. “Take it the rest of your clan shadow shifter are as a pissed as the council thanes are with this situation aye spa-ran” The comment took her by surprise before she realised the adjudicator was talking to her “You can say that again” She nodded looking down at him as he picked up an oiled cloth and began cleaning the leading edge of his axe once more. “Huh” He nodded “Had all hell to control during the baying, lower clans were calling for Lost blood until the higher clans started punching them” He chuckled ,“Then the Adjudicator huscarl herself let us lose on them both so the Council could get a word in edge ways” He glanced up at her with a smirk sliding across his face like an infectious virus at the thought of the mayhem and violence so casually inflicted. “I’d heard” she nodded, slightly adjusting her leather jacket in a nervous twitch. “Still Council got their gobs off, no real waste of the Lost’s back about the whole thing Spa-ran, likely get one clan to give them an ear full but that’s about it” He stopped his polishing to properly look up at her, resting one hand on the shaft of the weapon whilst the other scratched at a tattoo marking the under side of his chin. “More concerned with who ever slacked off and tried to double deal us, same I reckon goes for your lot aye?” He questioned her as she shifted slightly where she stood “Yeah, the founder’s looking into it, wants to talk with the next clan to go into that dome from what I’ve heard” She nodded. The Adjudicator nodded “Reckon that should be easy enough to set up” He stood up, hefting the axe over one shoulder as he did so before resting the other arm over it as it balanced on top of his shoulders, the armour plates of his jacket vest shifting slightly as he rolled his shoulder joints. “Come on” He grinned mischievously at her as he nodded towards the towering structure further down the cavernous hold... A Summary of Events With the lack of any CellBorn during the first excursions into the dome by the civilisations of the ruins the council has taken command of the Iron Blade until a leader is appointed from amongst the clans. As such the army has taken land nearest connected to the Holds of the CellBorn themselves and hunkered down to defend the position, needless to say on the side of things within the Agri-dome certain actions have occurred that have already begun to be felt across the ruins, so to a greater or lesser extent. For the CellBorn this has taken form in an odd way, a chance opportunity for the Lost turned sour in the face of trickery and the Black Market has appeared from the shadows to talk with the CellBorn about a mutual problem... Back to Whispers & Echos